Lolita
by Yarunika
Summary: Lolita is a dancing doll, bound by her music box and forgotten by her owner. Tired of being alone, she dreams of being able to dance to her own accord. But what happens when she 'wakes up' and comes to life? Is her creator really as nice as he seems?


1: Toys

When you give a child a new toy, you expect them to be pleased, don't you?

When the father of my household gave me to his daughter Lola, I thought she'd be happy. She had a new doll, a dancing one, which played music and would perform whenever she wanted me to. All she had to do was turn the brass key on the side of my pale pink box. I was a big doll too, full human size, expensively painted with a cute lace dress and pale pink roses tied into my bleached hair.

But no. The wretched child nodded, turned the key and watched me once, and then immediately lost interest. Her father did not notice the girl's lack of eagerness. He was always in his workroom, carving something new for her. I stood in my stiff position for what must've been years, collecting dust that was only shaken off on the rare occasion that Lola decided she wanted to watch me. I was happy when I danced, but I could hear the music coming from my box getting tinny and out of key. Lola played with me even less when the key snapped. Her father promised to get another, but he never did. I stood in the girl's playroom, forgotten and lonely.

Over this time, I really got thinking. I could blink like Lola and her father, so I must've been alive. Sometimes, if I concentrated really hard, I could twitch a pinkie finger. Lola never noticed my movement. I wondered if I would ever be able to step off my box and dance for my own pleasure. I badly wanted to dance. My joints were stiff and creaky – they needed oiling. I wondered if maybe I had once been alive, but had passed on and been reincarnated into doll form. I didn't have a name or any memories of such a human life. It bothered me a great deal, and I would get lost in thought for hours on end.

Lola by this time was in blooming adolescence. Not fully formed but definitely getting there, she was a pretty girl, with luscious dark hair and a petite figure. But she was very fussy. If things didn't go her way, she would yell at her father and stomp about. A troublesome child. Sometimes she'd throw things and on occasion they'd hit my painted legs. They never did much damage, but still it hurt. Odd. I was a doll; I shouldn't have been able to feel pain. One day, Lola stormed into the room and grabbed her old toys, the ones she held most dear like her stuffed bear and tea set, and announced she was leaving. Her father was furious and a lot of yelling ensued. I listened. It sounded like Lola was going off with a boy; I could hear an unfamiliar male voice downstairs. A friend? A lover?

Over the next few days, the house was very quiet. Sometimes her father would come in an admire me, rearranging the ruffles on my dress and standing back with his arms folded, smiling. One time he talked to me like I was able to answer him.

"She always was a picky girl," He'd mumble to me, playing with the frill of my skirt, "Oh, look what she did to your legs!" He examined the scuffs where the objects Lola had thrown had hit me. He left and returned a few minutes later with a pot of paint, and touched up my skin. I was grateful for this. Before he left he spoke of maybe remarrying. I did not listen really; I was too busy trying to figure out a way of thanking him. I tried to speak, and my lips twitched, but words would not emit. Instead I blinked rapidly. He stepped back suddenly, looking scared. My eyes followed him, and I forced a smile onto my lips. I did not mean to look menacing, so I tried to soften my face. He stood staring for a minute, unsure of what to do. Then he returned the smile.

"You… understand me? Blink if you do,"

I blinked. His lip quivered, and he left quickly. I did not see him again for a full week.

I was tired of being alone. I was sad. Had I scared him away? I got better at smiling, and soon I could move my whole face. Next came the head, which I could then turn, though my neck was painfully stiff. Before long, my arms came free. I would spend ages just making patterns with my fingers and stretching my arms up above my head. Then an odd thing happened, very suddenly. Without thinking I'd started humming a tune. That was strange. I hadn't been able to previously. Was my throat waking up now too? Could I speak? I tried.

My voice was raspy and child-like at first, and it took a short while to properly utilize it. Eventually though it deepened and I could move my tongue accordingly. I would hum other little ditties to myself. It really passed the time.

I was so wrapped up in my progress that I did not notice the familiar voice downstairs. Lola had returned. She was not on good par with her father, but she came into the playroom often and would talk to me as well, telling her story of how she'd thought he was _the one_, but he'd betrayed her for some ditzy bitch that was prettier than her and could sing better. I was appalled to hear this, and was sad to see Lola so down. I wanted to speak to her but feared I would scare her. She fingered the broken key in my box.

"Maybe I can fix it…" She murmured, then set about undoing it from the box and trying to bind it together. She got it into some order, and turned it in the hole. My gears kicked up, though the music was out of tune and my legs were rusty. She stood and watched. A horrifying thing struck me: my legs would dance as they'd been taught, but my upper body was free! I furiously tried to keep my arms in time with my legs, but it did not look as good as I'd hoped.

"Oh no, the doll's broken too!" She exclaimed, tears pricking in her eyes. She sobbed hard, sat on her knees and started crowing about how her father was useless. She shook my frame, yelling 'WORK! WORK! WORK!' over and over. I wobbled and the box tipped. I went clattering into the wall, the cogs coming out of the bottom of my box and going everywhere, the music messed up and coming to a stop. My head hurt badly, but my legs had come free, though I couldn't move them yet. I told her to stop, and she did, but with a surprised look on her face. She went pale very suddenly.

"Did you just…speak?" Her mouth was tight.

"Yes," I said, "You've hurt me quite badly. I can't move my legs but if you just help me I might be able to get up…"

She screamed and ran from the room, yelling about possessions and spirits and 'evil entities'. I shook each leg, willing the feeling into them, and they tingled eventually. Lola and her father returned.

"What is it?" He barged into the room and looked down on me with pity, "Oh, Lolita let me help you," He lifted me up and placed me on the writing desk in the corner of the room. I was shocked by this. He was scared before, why was he helping me now? Lola herself was scared silly, running round and shaking her hands, asking why he was playing with the 'dangerous spirit'. He massaged my legs and helped me move them. I could feel them waking up, and perched on the edge of the desk. Then I did a marvellous thing.

I stood. All by myself.

I stepped toward Lola, and wobbled a little, but managed to catch myself.

"Look!" I said, "Look! I'm walking!"

The father was ecstatic, but Lola shied away.

"You can't let her into our house!" She hissed, "Who knows what powers she has!"

"You cannot just banish her either!" Her father replied, "She is my greatest creation; my beautiful Lolita, please won't you stay with us?"

I nodded and recited my old dance. But this time it was more fluid. I twirled over ad over, never dizzy, enjoying the rush of excitement through my doll skeleton. I felt my skin and it felt real, soft and warm where my cheeks had flourished.

He watched and then escorted me to his workshop where he checked me over and told me about the house. It was an old house, he said, passed on from generation to generation. He was going to leave it to Lola, but he had decided not to; instead he would re-marry and have more children first. I listened intently.

He gave me my own room. It had been a guest room, he said, but he was willing to do it up all pink and pretty if I wanted it. I nodded enthusiastically and stroked the soft quilt. I had only ever slept stood up, so a bed of my own was certainly exciting. As he helped me to sort out a wardrobe that would eventually hold my own clothes, I asked him my burning question.

"You called me Lolita before. Is that my name?"

"Yes,"

I smiled. It was a pretty name, "Then, what's your name?"

"My name is Judas,"

"That's an interesting name," I mused.

"Well, thank you. Is this room really alright?"

"Yes, it's lovely. Thank you,"

"Alright," He stood, "Feel free to explore. If you need anything, I am in my workroom," He left.

I took great delight in exploring. The house was huge, with many rooms and winding corridors and I got lost many times I felt young and free, like I was a child. I soon got tired, and tried to find my way back to my room. On the way, I passed the workroom. I could hear Lola and Judas talking.

"…This shouldn't have happened!" Lola was saying, "They aren't supposed to come alive! They're dead!"

"So, you knew about the dolls…"

"Of course I knew. Why do you think I left in the first place?"

"I thought Tobias was the reason,"

"He was only part of the reason!" There was a pause, and Lola's voice was dark, "Something isn't right about this. Why you were toying with dead women I'll never know but something odd is happening. How many more dolls do you have?"

"There's more in the basement. I've already tried to disassemble them but they're like iron. I shouldn't have gotten myself so caught up in my experiment," Judas sobbed. I listened in, crouched by the door.

"You need to get rid of them, of _her_! It's trouble! She seems to have taken a liking to you, but what will she think of you when you tell her how she was made? You think she'll take it lightly when you tell her that you took her corpse from the morgue to experiment on?!"

"Keep your voice down, girl, she might hear,"

A silence cascaded over the room. I stood and backed up from the door. So, I did have a life before this one. I was… dead. Or _was_, at least. Judas' image in my mind had originally been a bright one, but now it was going cloudy and dark.

I was just a pet for him, a game. I was a fool. I turned and ran, intent on getting to the bottom of what they were saying. The basement apparently had more dolls. Maybe I could wake them up…

I ran around, looking for some way down to the basement. I found a door that had a long staircase spiralling downwards behind it. Rushing down, I hit the bottom soon and found another workroom. As I'd feared, there were more dolls down there. One was lying on a workbench, its belly open and stuffed with cogs. They were red and glistening. The sight chilled me to the bone. _Poor girls_…I thought, and rushed over to a cluster where a few of them stood, locked in similar positions to my original one. They all were painted and pretty and in many colours. I shook them and snapped my fingers in front of their faces. They did not reply, except for one at the back. She blinked and looked up.

"You…" She rasped, "You're awake too,"

"Yes!" I urged, "The others, are they awake?"

"I don't know," She said, "Help me, my legs, they're stuck!"

"It's alright," I pushed through and helped her, prising them free. She toppled over and fell flat on her back. I helped her up and threw one of her arms round my shoulders, supporting her.

"My name is Frankie," She said.

"I'm Lolita,"

"Hey!" Another one said. I turned. A yellow doll was shaking her arms free.

"You're awake!" She did not have as much trouble getting her legs free. She stumbled over.

"What about the others, Francis?" Frankie said to her.

"They might be awake. We have to help them. Why are we here?"

"Judas," I said, "He's experimenting on dead girls, and he's making them into dolls!"

"That's a vile thing to do!" Frankie exclaimed.

"Criminal!" Said Francis.

"I woke up upstairs. He was talking to Lola about it. She thinks we're evil. We have to get out of here, who knows what he'll do to stop us from waking up?"

"He's already had a go at Amber over there," Frankie pointed to the doll on the bench.

There were footsteps coming from the stairs, "Lolita?" Judas came into view, "Ah, there you are-" He stopped short when he saw Frankie and Francis clinging to me, swaying on their feet.

"This is wrong Judas! You can't play with the dead!" Francis pointed and accusing finger at him.

"Judas, why?" I asked, "You're a carver, aren't you? Why use dead women for dolls?"

He looked shaken; Lola appeared behind him, her mouth gaping at the sight.

"There are more of them…" She whispered, then slumped against the wall, her hand over her mouth as she whined in fear.

"It was an experiment," Judas said, "I was paid to do it. It was just a test, no one thought it would work."

Anger bubbled inside of me, "Vile! My body may have only woken up today but my mind knows many things, and one of those things is that dead things should be left in peace. I heard you talking to Lola's nanny about it before she left,"

"I know. I'm sorry," He hung his head, "But look, it was a success! You're here, and you shouldn't age! It's a breakthrough! You'll be poured over by many! Imagine, the children would love you! You could dance to your heart's content!"

"You can't fool us, Judas. People would be scared of the living dead!" Frankie scowled.

"Father, you need to stop this! Get rid of them!" Lola squealed. She grabbed a metal pole from a pile of scrap and held it in front of her, as if she was going to block anything that was thrown at her. I stepped forward and she tensed.

"Judas, what will you do? Kill us?" I asked him. He was shocked and shook his head.

"I can't…You're too beautiful, my greatest creation. I'm enthralled by you. Please, spare me, forgive me. Take what you want. Stay if you want. Just don't hurt Lola, she doesn't deserve it."

I turned to the others, "What do we do?"

"Smash him, he's sick," Francis said.

"Spare him, we'll leave and make our own way," Frankie replied.

"He's gone too far," Francis argued, "He'll probably turn his girl into a doll before long,"

Lola squeaked in terror and huddled under a table.

"No, we'll attract attention. As I said, people would be scared of us. We should leave quietly,"

Francis rubbed her forehead, "I dislike this. I've been stuck in the same position for years, I'm tired. I don't care what happens really. I don't want to be a doll," She began to cry suddenly; "I wish I was still alive, like I was before. I had a son, I remember him. I want to see him again. I've thought for so long that maybe if I died I would wake up and see him again,"

I placed a hand on her shoulder, "He's still alive though, isn't he? You could go find him,"

Her eyes brightened a little, "Yes…I guess I could. Wait, what if he doesn't recognise me?"

"Hey, he's getting away!" Frankie called.

Judas had run from the room, Lola close on his heels. My anger burned and we followed. Our long dancer's legs easily outran them and we caught them both. Lola kicked and screamed as Francis lifted her high above her head. Judas begged for mercy as Frankie grabbed his ankle and held him upside-down.

"Sick, twisted man," Francis shook her head, "We really should give them what they deserve. Who cares who finds out? We'll be gone by the time anyone gets here,"

"You know, the more you mention it, the more appealing it becomes," Frankie said.

There was a dangerous glint in their eyes. I thought back to what Lola had said, about us being 'evil'. Was this what she'd meant?

"Come on, Lolita, won't you help?" Francis asked, a sly smile on her features.

"Is…Is this right?" I asked.

"We're dolls, right? Those human rules don't necessarily apply to us. We can do whatever, after all, we _are _dead,"

"Oh," I said, "I thought we were alive. I feel alive,"

"You don't have a human heart though do you? It's all cogs isn't it?,"

"True… but if I don't have a heart, why do I bleed?" I showed them the scrapes on my arms from when I had fallen before, "We must be getting more real by the minute."

They were confused and muttered amongst themselves.

"That's not important right now, we have work to do!" Frankie said.

"Still, killing them wouldn't be very-"

"Very what?" Francis snapped, "They've done horrible things. They're vulgar filth!"

"Lola wasn't the one toying with us though, shouldn't we spare her?"

"No, she'd a brat. Let's kill her too,"

"But-"

"No!" Frankie butt in, "Be quiet or we'll kill you too!"

I sat scared as Francis grabbed Lola by the neck and by her skinny hips and twisted her body. There were many sickening snaps and Lola screamed, her ribs twisted the wrong way round, her legs back to front. Francis continued to twist her, until she was wound up like a spring. Francis dropped her and watched her writhe in agony, wailing. Frankie did the same to Judas. They stood and admired their work.

"Come, Lolita, help us. You woke up first, so you get the glory," Francis grabbed my arm and pulled me into the nearby kitchen. She search around and found a box of matches.

Going back, she told me to set them alight.

"Francis, I-"

"Do it," Her grip tightened on my arm. I struck a match and lit Judas' shirt, my apology given in my eyes. His shirt smouldered, and was soon ablaze. I had to do the same for Lola. They screamed and kicked, cursing and yelling. Tears rolled down my face. I knew their screams would haunt me. The two dolls behind me cackled. They had been so nice at first, and now they were showing their true personalities.

I was not like them.

Sure, Judas had done wrong, but Lola…She may have been difficult, but she needn't die. I turned to them, stony faced. They had been strong enough to twist a whole body around; surely I had some strength too. They each looked at me, questioningly.

"I'm sorry," I said, then grabbed them both by the throat, one in each hand. I swung round, quick as a flash, and tossed them on top on the two wailing people on the floor. Their delicate clothes set alight easily, and they screamed in pain. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a rolling pin from the top and ran back, beating them both until they lay still, the only sound being the crackle of the fire that consumed them.

I stepped back and wept. The flames licked the walls, and soon other things caught light and began to burn. I turned and ran, away from the mess of blood and cogs on the floor. I found the door and headed outside. The sun setting, but the light was strong enough to blind me. I would've revelled in the beauty of the outside world, but I was too scared.

The house was on top of a hill, and below a collection of other buildings laid spread out like an inkblot on a map. I began my journey down, but remembered that Frankie had said people would be scared of us. I made my way into the trees instead and made my way down out of sight. The trees were thick and my dress tore, my hair unravelling from it's pins, the roses falling out. I slipped several times, my knees stained by the grass and mud, but it didn't stop me. Would I possibly be able to live in the town? I was a doll. Surely people would see that.

After a while I came to the bottom of the hill. It levelled out, and a followed a stream to a small pond. The water was green, but I could still see my reflection in it. I marvelled at my appearance. I was filthy and a mess but I looked so real, human. I felt my skin. My joints had softened, and my skin was smooth. I was real, I had to be. I could feel hard thumps in my chest. My heart must've been beginning to work properly. I had bled before, but not much. Now I had a stream running around me, actual circulation. I had been right; I _was_ becoming human. It was both scary and thrilling. Things looked a little brighter then. I could start a new life, forget the mess and the house on the hill and begin anew.

With a plan in mind, I cleaned my arms and my knees, removed the soil top layer of my dress, and made my way towards the town.


End file.
